


rock out w your cock out

by rapunzariccia



Series: DGA [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, M/M, Oral Sex, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3423569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rapunzariccia/pseuds/rapunzariccia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HAPPY BDAY AMDAM have some #team bad decisions</p>
            </blockquote>





	rock out w your cock out

**Author's Note:**

> title bc i wrote the entire thing to fob's new album. shitty ending bc i just wanted this thing done tbh

"i can't believe i'm doing this," mag mutters. there's a warm hand on her back in a moment, a comforting presence. asher always has been.  
"you want to back out?" he's asking her, and she doesn't need to raise her head to know how serious and concerned he looks. he's adorable when he's worried - he's adorable all the time, but asher at his most concerned is a face that could stop a bullet, quite frankly.  
  
she doesn't answer him. she drops her face into her hands again, part of the routine she's been nursing since they sat down in this cafe. she'll cover her face, then run her hands through her hair, then do it all over again. she probably looks ill. asher seems to interpret her silence as something positive, and doesn't push the subject. he does, however, keep his hand on her back, rubbing little circles with his thumb. it helps to relax her, but she doesn't lift her head.  
  
a waitress brings over their drinks - coke for mag, a coffee for asher - and leaves them in silence again. asher probably sent her on her way with a curt look - he's getting good at those.  
"ugh," mag groans, and pulls her bag up to the table without letting her face show. asher can't tell what she's doing as she fishes around inside it, but the flash of silver gives him a clue.  
"mag, come on. put the booze away."  
  
too late. the flask is unscrewed and upended into the glass and the sharp tang of alcohol is in the air.  
"mag..."  
"shut it," she mutters, and uses her finger to stir the drink. "i'm not getting drunk. i just need a little bit of courage."  
"not getting drunk? and that's why you carry a flask of - what is that, tequila?"  
"mmm," mag confirms, and takes a long swig from the flask before she screws it back up and puts it away again. she washes the taste down with her drink. "and don't roll your eyes at me."  
"i just think it's a little suspect-"  
"you want suspect, you want to see how volka's hiding her bottles these days. look, it's not dependence, just one drink, okay?"  
"mag-"  
"you are asking _a hell of a lot of me_ , asher, _please_ , just let me have this one little boost to kep me on my toes."  
  
asher opens his mouth to argue the topic further, and that's when they're interrupted.  
"what's up, losers," claude's saying as they drop into the seat opposite the couple. they aren't greeted with a response straight away, and they look between the two. "alright, christ, don't fall over yourselves."  
mag grunts. claude ignores her. asher rubs her back again, and offers a thin smile. "how's it going, claude?"  
"same shit, different day," they reply. "you know how it is. freshers to hook up with various substances, assholes to threaten and extort." they glance at mag. "i'm guessing something's happened, or you wouldn't call me out here."  
"can't friends hang out?" asher asks, all forced smiles and sudden sweaty palms. mag takes another long drink and avoids everyone's eyes.  
"friends can, but we're not friends," claude says. they snap their fingers at the waitress walking by, who gives them a shitty look. "water. bottled, not from the tap. thanks. we are, however," they say at asher again, "acquaintances. i'm sure we'd be something of a more personal nature if _someone_ wasn't so intent on being a controlling witch and stopping you from doing whatever you want."  
  
they say that with a clear glance at mag, who flips them off without looking over. her mouth is thin and she's doing her best to hide beneath her messy fringe, which isn't working out so well for her. she's even smaller than usual, and looks so uncomfortable even with asher keeping a gentle hand on her that something is so obviously wrong. claude is getting a bad feeling about having turned up.  
"ha ha ha," asher laughs, like the hostile air around their party isn't awful. it's a desperate attempt to keep his two favourite people in the room without trying to kill each other. again. it's a hard job, and thankless, but someone has to do it! well, it worked out without his presence when claude tried to strangle mag a couple months ago, but it's still his job. probably.  
  
"alright," claude says. "i don't trust that stink-eyed waitress to not spit in my drink- ah, thank you," they say as the girl floats back over and dumps the water down unceremoniously in front of them as she hears her new description. "so i'm not gonna drink it, but it's here, i'm here, you're here, let's cut the chitchat and get down to the problem. something's wrong, only i can solve your problem, mag's here to babysit because she doesn't like me, i get it. hit me."  
  
this time _asher_ looks down and mag has to glance over at him to check he's okay. claude watches behind their shades without moving a muscle in their face. something is _seriously_ wrong.  
"alright," asher says, but he's quiet now. "okay, so. bear with me- us, bear with us. so you know mag and i are- what am i talking about, you've been around from the beginning, you don't need to know backstory. okay. you know we're together. so we were talking like, what, a couple weeks ago? maybe longer?"  
"you're babbling, love," mag says quietly, and pats his thigh gently. asher laughs quietly.  
"this is hard. okay. so we were talking about, um, stuff, and you came up, and i guess - we thought maybe you'd want to join us sometime?"  
"what," claude says, because asher is babbling and not making sense, but they have an idea of what he might be hinting at. it won't do to guess, though. "i'm here with you now."  
"no-" asher exhales, and runs his hands through his hair. it sticks up at funny angles in the front, makes him look rumpled. added to his flustered expression - god, the boy's blushing, he's like a puppy - it makes him look like he's run a mile. "that's not quite - i mean, i guess? but- ah, fuck. this is hard." he smiles apologetically. it looks more like a wince. "maybe - maybe in bed. the three of us. maybe?"  
  
claude decides to not say anything and take a drink of their water that has probably been spat in, instead. asher glances away once or twice, but he's very determinedly keeping eye contact with them. that means he's serious.  
  
 _fuck_.  
  
"sure, okay," they say. it comes out completely naturally. "absolutely. the second magaira agrees to it-"  
"she did?" asher cuts in, and he's glancing at her, and she's _still not making eye contact, god_. claude's mouth dries up again.  
"what," they say. there's silence. asher's looking at mag now with concern in his eyes all over again, and she's turned her head so she's staring at the door people are coming through. "what," claude says again, this time more insistent.  
  
mag seems to realise finally that something is required of her. she shifts in her seat, glances over at asher, remembers she has half a coke laced with booze sitting in front of her. she tosses it back in one fluid motion, swallows, starts playing with the empty glass on the table and chewing on her lips instead of answering.  
" _what_ ," claude hisses across the table at her. miserably, she lifts her head a little.  
"... yeah," she says, and leaves it at that.  
"fill me in, mag, because this is crazy. this is _crazy_."  
mag's gaze shoots to her bag again, but she refrains from grabbing for it and downing the rest of her flask's contents.  she closes her eyes instead, and takes a deep breath. she doesn't open them when she speaks again.  
"to clarify what asher _already told you_ , we were talking, and ages ago i suggested maybe - adding an extra person, but asher said if it wasn't you then no way josé, and - and he's the one that brought it up this time and i thought..."  
  
she trails off, sounding miserable. claude thinks that this could have been such a sweet conversation two years ago, when they still hated each other fiercely and nothing but that hate existed. time brought change, and mag has been posing as their girlfriend in what might be the most dangerous pretense either of them has ever kept up for three months now. claude doesn't say a thing and waits for her to explain further. she takes another breath, grits her teeth, and opens her eyes. she's glaring at them.  
"look, we both know this is for him. this isn't for me, this isn't for you, let's just get that out of the way, but i'm not leaving you alone with him if you decide to- to agree." her voice breaks, and she has to clear her throat. her glare doesn't let up at all. "look, i- since i'm gonna be there, if, if this is a thing, then i - ugh." she makes an aggrivated noise, drums her fingers on the table angrily. "i'll - i'll suck you off if you want, i'll let you fuck me, if you want. if you don't want anything to do with me then that's fine, whatever, i'll just sit and watch. no big. just- just," she finishes lamely, and has to divert her gaze again.  
  
"right," claude says, and then, "uh," and _then_ "okay," like their brain and mouth aren't being completely traitorous right now. they have to blink a couple of times. even asher's stopped looking at them now - they're both completely embarrassed. claude's glad that it's near impossible to tell when they're blushing, because their cheeks feel hot right now, and they don't want this to be the thing they're known for being broken by.  
"so, so, uh," asher starts saying, voice pitched higher than usual. "what do you- _ow, mag_ -!"  
she's pinched him under the table, judging by the way he's jerked away from her. " _i've got it_ ," he's hissing at her, and she's staring at him like she's trying to laser the words the _fuck you do_ on his forehead. they both turn back to claude at the same time, take in identical breaths, and hesitate to glance at each other and start laughing. it's nervous laughter, born only of this situation, but it builds and builds until mag has her face in the crook of her elbow and sounds like she's sobbing, and asher's slumped back in his chair. they're making so much noise that other customers are staring, and claude can only take so much until they don't need the attention anymore.  
"fuck you guys," they say, and get to their feet. "look, just... i'll see you later." they disappear out of the shop, leaving their almost full glass of water behind to be paid for and mag and asher to hold hands under the table so hard that their knuckles are all white.  
  


* * *

  
  
efrain and sar are out that evening. they have a date - an actual date, where they get dressed up and yell insulting things at each other before they leave the house. after the failure during the day, mag and asher decided to make themselves comfortable. he's in a shirt two sizes too big that her parents brought back from a holiday to the tropics three months ago, and mag's been painting her nails and putting her hair up into tiny fluffy bunches. they're lying on the couch together, entwined comfortably, enjoying being able to take up the living room and not get told to move every few minutes.  
"i should probably dye my hair again soon," mag says during a lull in the programme they're watching. asher runs his fingers through her hair in response. "mmm. what do you think, love - should i stay pink? try something different?"  
"pink is cute," he says, and yawns. "makes you look like bubblegum."  
  
this earns a grin from her, and she twists to try and press a kiss to his chin, but a knock at the door stops her. she glances, frowning, at the front door, then kisses his chin anyway. "you expecting anything?"  
"no," he says, just as puzzled as her. "get off, i'll answer it."  
  
they extract themselves from each other, and asher's got his hand on the handle when whoever's there knocks again.  
"alright, alright," he grumbles, and then the door swings open, and then there's silence.  
"who is it?" mag asks, and pulls herself up to hang over the back of the sofa. she doesn't quite manage it, but keeps herself sitting upright, at the very least. standing in the doorway is claude, looking just as sheepish as someone wearing sunglasses indoors can do.  
apparently there's only so long silence can go on for. "are you going to invite me in, then?"  
"uh," asher says intelligently, but he moves aside and shuts the door behind claude. mag's arms are starting to tremble, so she lets herself fall back, and then pushes up to rest on her knees instead.  
  
"what the fuck are you doing here?" she asks when she's upright again. the directness of the question has them shuffling awkwardly, or as close to awkward as the youngest member of a mafiosa family can get. they say something quietly. "say again?"  
"i said i'd see you later, i- fuck, no, this was a mistake. my bad, i'm out."  
  
they turn to leave, and mag and asher spare a split second glance at each other. he grabs claude's wrist, clamps around it in a manner mag knows to be firm but gentle, while she tries to gracefully vault over the sofa. it doesn't quite work. she falls over the back instead and smacks her knee off the floor.  
" _fuck_ ," she hisses. claude snorts.  
"how have you gotten this far with how uncoordinated you are?"  
"fuck _you_ ," she glares, leaning against the sofa and clutching her knee. it's a very mag remark to make, but it takes on a different feel here. claude shifts their weight again, clears their throat.  
"well," they say, and it doesn't come out so much _smooth_ as it does _forced_.  
"can i get you anything to drink? water?" asher asks, ever the peacekeeper. claude shrugs acceptance, but raises a hand when asher turns to mag. "get it yourself. i trust  _her_ even less than that waitress with a stick up her ass from earlier. she'll lace it with cyanide instead of spit."  
"too fuckin' right," mag mutters, and they're glaring at each other like the world will end if they don't. asher throws his hands up in defeat - there's no point getting between these two when they want to tear each other a new one - and leaves.  
  
"is this going to be a problem," claude says quickly, before mag can start something. she scrunches her face up. "you said earlier that it'd be okay, but if this isn't - it's weird, but you've done weird." she snorts. "exactly. look, i'm here because - christ alive, i'm not even sure why, anymore, just tell me to go if you want me to go and i'll do it. point of no return, magaira. make a decision. this is up to you."  
  
this seems to throw her, and asher chooses that moment to return with water that has definitely not been laced with spit, poison, or anything else. claude accepts it and places it straight down on a table that bears dying flowers. they haven't broken eye contact with mag, who's still frowning.  
"well?"  
"shut up. look-" and she pauses to look at asher, who doesn't seem to understand why he's being scrutinised all of a sudden. he cocks his head to the side, raises an eyebrow, and mag sighs. "... yeah. it's fine."  
"right," claude says with an air of finality. mag gets the feeling that she's just signed some kind of contract. maybe she has. asher's still looking confused when claude shrugs their jacket off and tosses it elegantly over the back of the sofa. mag straightens it before it can fall to the floor.  
"uh," asher says, as claude rolls their shoulders and asks, "so, bedroom?"  
  
things move like they're in a dream after that. mag has to bring the water back to the kitchen and dump it down the sink while asher shows claude where to put their shoes, and then they're in mag's bedroom. mag and asher sit together on the bed and claude rests their bony ass on her table, staring at the shelf of skulls.  
"we can take them down if they're too weird," asher says, and mag gapes at him.  
"you're not touching my babies."  
"mag-"  
"absolutely not! we're not turning them around, before you ask," she says, and takes in a deep breath to continue toward hysteria.  
"they're not that weird," claude says quietly, eyes on the rat skull. "they're in good condition."  
"er, yeah," mag agrees, and folds her legs under herself. "i look after them? it's like - my hobby."  
"cool," claude says. there's a long silence that stretches out just long enough to make them all very uncomfortable, and then asher's stomach rumbles.  
  
it's mag that starts laughing first, and then asher joins in, and most of the tension's broken then. mag leans over the edge of her bed, pulls a box out from underneath it, and tosses a bag of crisps at asher.  
"eat, love," she says as she kicks the box away again. he pops the bag open and shoves a handful of crisps into his mouth as claude tries hard not to snicker. "alright, so - how do you want this to happen? what- what do you want from this?" she's facing claude again, legs folded away neatly and hands tucked into her knee-pits for warmth. "please, god, tell me if you have this ridiculously high expectations so i can dash them here and now."  
claude makes a face. "by all means, get ready to disappoint me," they say. "i- i don't know what i'm expecting. to get off? that's what's supposed to happen? i mean." they shuffle their feet again. "i know even if this all goes wrong then..."  
"i have no interest in being strangled again," mag says primly, and scratches her nose. "and asher's been puckering his lips for your asshole since before i met him. i think you're safe with us, jerkwad."  
"fuck off," claude retorts without venom. "okay. fine, that's - yeah, okay. alright. what do you- normally do?"  
  
"depends," asher says around a mouthful of crisps. "usually i'm the one getting fu- uhh, getting it. sometimes mag likes to give me a break, so we concentrate on her."  
"don't want his asshole to fall out," mag says without thinking. "love, you're spraying crumbs over the bed."  
"oops," asher covers his mouth and swallows. "sorry. i mean, we could just - do whatever we'd do normally? and you can- join in if you want to?"  
"sure," claude says without conviction. they glance around. "should i just - sit down?"  
"you can stand if you'd prefer," mag says. "and for gods's sakes, take off your stupid shades. no eyewear in the bedroom."  
"they aren't _stupid_ ," claude snaps. "actually, fuck you, they're staying on."  
"no orgasms for you, then," mag shrugs, and links her hands behind her head like she's won. it takes all of ten seconds before she hears the satisfying _click_ of the sunglasses being set down on her table. asher stops crinkling the plastic bag.  
"woah," he says. "woah."  
  
mag understands. claude has pretty eyes that they keep hidden unless they're asleep or at family functions, with naturally long lashes that almost kiss the tops of their cheeks. they're the main clue to their heritage, but that didn't stop mag from being shocked by a tiny, ferocious japanese woman introducing herself as claude's mother the first time she saw them uncovered. claude clears their throat, which means that they're feeling uncomfortable - good. there's something about their discomfort that feels like it'll make the whole ordeal that much easier.  
"chuck that away now, love," she says to asher, who tosses the empty bag of crisps onto the floor like the animal he is. he brushes the crumbs away from his mouth, sweeps the top of the blanket off, and opens his arms for mag to crawl over to.  
  
it's a strange feeling, kissing her boyfriend while she's aware someone else is in the room and watching carefully. being stared at has never stopped her from making out with him in public before, but the privacy of her room has always been sacred with the exception of efrain's nosy self every once in a while. everything else is a familiar comfort, even down to the artificial cheese the crisps left asher's mouth tasting like. still, it's chaster than usual. mag has to pat his chest a couple of times to get him to stop, and presses an extra apologetic smooch to the tip of his nose.  
"you," she aims back at claude, who is lounging in her chair with their legs crossed. "i- ugh."  
"take the stick out of your ass, mag," they say, and they have the _audacity_ to sound bored. "just get on with it."  
  
mag sucks in a deep breath and her face takes on this whole new brand of fury, and asher decides to tweak her nose with his fingers. the fury remains, and then mingles with extreme confusion as mag tries to process just what's going on.  
"chill out," asher says, and kisses her ear. "close your eyes, if you want. it doesn't have to be weird if you don't want it to be."  
"but they're just _watching_ ," she starts to whine, and shuts up so he can kiss her mouth.  
"just watching," he repeats in the moments between little presses of his lips. "relax." he kisses her again, shifts position just enough to bear her down to the mattress and drape himself over her so that she can only see him and the ceiling. mag does as she's told and shuts her eyes, takes in a deep breath and releases it in a shaky little giggle when he kisses away from her mouth and down her neck. she outright laughs when he blows a raspberry against her shoulder.  
  
claude has to watch this for a couple of minutes, but it's obvious the distraction was necessary. the tension slowly eases its way out of mag; the muscles in her legs slowly relax until she's comfortable hooking her calf around asher's knee and pulling him in closer. they're whispering things to each other, just quiet enough that claude can't hear. it's probably for the best they relax each other, but it doesn't stop it from being boring.  
surprisingly enough, they hear a zipper slowly being tugged down. _that_ 's enough to get them to watch a little more closely. asher's sitting up, enough for mag to wriggle out from under him and shrug the hoodie she's been wearing off.  
  
in typical mag fashion, she's not wearing anything underneath it, and she lowers her eyes and lets a full-body shudder work its way up her spine. asher cups her face gently and kisses her again.  
"you're freckled," claude says in surprise. they get a one-eyed glare aimed at them.  
"you've been telling your family for weeks that you _loved my freckles_ ," she says back. asher takes a moment to kiss away the rising anger in her voice. "i thought you would have figured out they're everywhere."  
" _everywhere_ ," asher repeats in a low voice, and snickers when mag slaps his side. she mumbles something, and he laughs. "are you _embarrassed_? you're adorable." she slaps him again, and he has to duck away for a moment to control himself. claude can see everything, but incredibly, mag refuses to cover herself. she's not looking at them, though.  
  
"cute, huh?" asher asks when he composes himself. the question's directed at claude, who is taken aback and can only shrug in response.  
"i suppose?"  
"they are," he says with all the doe-eyed reverance of a man in love, and bends his head to kiss one. he grabs the other with a hand and kneads it gently; mag makes a contented noise and shuts her eyes again. she's soon pressed back onto the bed, and claude has to resist the urge to roll their eyes.  
"great view of asher's ass back here," they gripe.  
"then sit on the damn bed," mag grumbles back at them. "ow! asher, don't bite- _ahh_ ," she sighs as he soothes the nipped area with his tongue. she raises a hand to run through asher's already-rumpled hair, and tugs him away gently. she rolls onto her side underneath him to shoot claude an exasperated look. they can't help but notice that her nipples already look tight, and one is shiny from asher's mouth. "there's no point in you being here if you're just going to bitch that you're missing all the good bits. actually," she adds as claude rolls their eyes and makes to move, "behind you, third drawer down. bring it over."  
  
she pulls asher back down for another kiss, happy that his lips are already starting to pinken and swell from attention.  
"uh," claude says, and they break from each other to mirror each other's smirks. "what do i bring?"  
"all of it," asher says, and pulls away to shrug his own shirt off. it ends up on the floor, and he rubs his hands along his chest a couple of times to get the blood flowing.  
"cold?" mag asks, and presses chilly fingertips to his naval. this earns a yelp, and she grins. "i'll take that as a yes."  
  
they're interrupted by claude's sudden presence next to them. they turn their heads and take them in: standing with their hands full of lube, harness straps and a generous dildo almost as thick as their forearm. they're not winning any awards for weight gain, that's for sure, but claude seems just a little intimidated as they toss them onto the bed and remains standing. asher smiles up at them, and looks so happy that mag can't help but smile as well. she brushes his hair back.  
"sit down?" asher offers, and hesitating only for a moment, claude does so. "do you want to- mag, is it okay if they touch you?" she huffs in response, and then yelps when asher pinches her nipple. "yes or no," he says, and lets her blow a raspberry at him before he pinches again.  
" _fuck_. yeah, it's fine."  
"you can touch her if you want," asher repeats a tad eagerly. "or me."  
"just get on with whatever," claude says. "i'll... just watch for now."  
"are my boobs not good enough for you?" mag asks with only the tiniest touch of irritation as asher nods and bends his head to her stomach.  
"no," claude answers her. that earns them a frown, and they have to bite their cheek to keep from laughing. it's too easy to wind mag up. she settles for making a face in lieu of insulting them further, and then scrunches up her nose.  
  
"hips up, love," asher mumbles from her crotch. she obliges, and shuts her eyes as he pops the button on her jeans and tugs them down.  
"is my face not good enough for you?" claude echoes. she smirks, but it quickly disappears, like laughing at claude's jokes is the biggest sin in the universe. she grunts as asher pokes her thighs to get her to shift upwards again, and presses her lips together as he removes her panties as well. they both, in true asher fashion, find a new home on the floor.  
"she always goes first?" claude asks asher, who's making his way up mag's thighs with gentle kisses. he pauses to lean his cheek against her thigh.  
"not always, but it's fair. i'm too tired after i, er-" he blushes like his girlfriend's vagina isn't currently on display to a newcomer, and coughs. " _afterwards_ , and it's not right to leave her wanting, so..."  
claude picks up the toy that's waiting to be used. "not that i expect a different answer, but - _you're_ going to be taking this?"  
"mmm," asher says, and he _winks_. he resumes his path along mag's legs up to where he can already smell her.  
"just wait til you _see it_ ," mag mutters, and then swallows hard when asher arrives at his destination. "it's- something else, _ah_ , fuck, yes." she crosses her arms above her head so her face is mostly hidden, and breathes in so deeply that her back threatens to rise off the bed. " _yes_."  
  
claude watches in utter fascination as asher does his best to please his girlfriend with just his mouth. he's earnest, if nothing else. mag's face is turned into her arm and she's alternating between biting her lip and making hitched, breathy pants that are going straight to claude's cock. she actually presses her hand against the back of his head and presses him closer, groans when that doesn't do the trick.  
" _fuck_ ," she whines, and pants sharply. claude can see the frustration building in the way she's balled her hands into fists.  
"christ, man, use your hands," they suggest, and asher stops to gape. mag whines again. "your _hands_ ," claude repeats. "you won't get anywhere without them. like this," and they lift their hand and make a gun barrel with their index and middle finger, giving asher a Look until he follows suit. "like that, that's right. back to what you were doing, but slip those in while you're- yes, that's right."  
  
asher follows their instructions, and mag makes an incredible noise. asher stops, obviously surprised, and is rewarded with a kick to the back. "if you don't keep going i will break your fingers," she says through gritted teeth, and nearly sobs when he sucks at her again. she's much more responsive now, even though asher leaves a lot to be desired. claude is almost tempted to guide his head themselves, but decides not to. it's a good decision - asher raises his head, wipes his mouth on his arm, and keeps teasing her with just his fingers.  
" _god_ , asher, fuck, _fuck_ , don't stop _please don't you dare stop..."_  
 _you should definitely stop_ , claude thinks, but doesn't say a thing. they watch asher watch mag as she gets closer and closer to her tipping point, babbling the entire while, and then keens and goes silent and taut as a drawn bowstring as she comes. she's panting hard when she comes down for it, whimpers when asher withdraws his hand for her, and doesn't see him lick his fingers clean of her.  
"you always taste good," he says in a husky voice, and offers his fingers to claude, who raises their brows in surprise. "you want to try?"  
"uh, no."  
"your loss." asher shrugs, wipes what's left on his fingers onto the bedspread, and crawls up to cuddle mag's head. he's laughing quietly as she comes back to herself and pressing kisses all over her face; she pushes herself to sitting and rests her head against his shoulder, catching her breath again.  
  
"you're harder than you usually are," she notes, and asher stares at the ceiling. "you're really getting off on them being here, aren't you? _christ_ , asher, love, you're- you're something else." she laughs, pats his cheek gently. "can you get yourself started? i need a minute to get my head in order."  
"sure," asher says, and kisses her again. the flush is spreading from his cheeks down to his neck, and he shuffles back off the bed to give mag and himself some room. his gaze is focused on himself as he unbuckles his trousers, too aware of his audience watching him undress. claude has to admit, the time with mag has done him good - the boy isn't rail thin anymore. he has actual muscles that almost ripple as he bends and twists, and a much healthier pallor than he had a couple of years ago. anyone that hadn't known what he'd gone through wouldn't have recognised him.  
  
and yet, so little had changed. asher is still hard for claude, a fact that's all too evident as he shucks his trousers and underpants. he swallows hard.  
"uh," he starts, eloquent as ever. "can i- can one of you pass the lube? please?"  
mag rolls over and grabs it to toss at him, which he catches without fumbling. his cock bobs prettily with the action, and mag and claude's eyes are drawn towards the movement. he uncaps it easily, leans forward to kneel on the bed again, drizzles a generous amount onto himself and fails to choke back a moan as he strokes it evenly around his shaft.  
mag chances a glance at claude, whose eyebrows are raised. they look like they might nod in approval. she agrees, and curls her legs closer to herself, letting her head rest against her pillows as she watches, finally more comfortable with the strange situation. asher shuffles forward onto the bed, coats his fingers with lube and jarringly - nervously - leans forward until his ass is tilted upward and his head faces down. he shuts his eyes, finding comfort the same way mag did from their company, and slides his hand up, around, back, to probe gently until he comes across his ass.  
  
it's certainly something, watching asher work himself. with his eyes shut he's less conscious about his movements, and ends up frowning into the mattress as he slides two fingers into himself without any preamble. he goes still, breathes for a moment and relaxes, sinks in further before he retracts his fingers for more lubrication. he's dripping with the stuff by the time mag decides he's ready, and trying to hold back on the quiet, undignified noises he's making.  
"pass me the rest of it," mag tells claude when he's reached this stage, and busies herself with attaching her toy to the straps, and the straps to herself. it's a confusing business and her patience can only give so much before she starts cursing under her breath at the fabric, so claude turns their attention to asher, who is obviously enjoying himself. his cock is pointing straight down, guided by gravity and glistening from his quick intial passes over himself. he's shorter than claude by an inch or so, but thicker, and the head is as flushed as his face.  
  
"cute, isn't he?" mag says, pulling the harness up her legs and tightening it in place. she tugs at the straps in a couple of places to make sure it won't get dislodged, and slaps her fake cock for good measure. it bounces rigidly and then stands back at attention, light blue completely at odds with her dark skin.  
"that- that looks ridiculous," claude says, choosing not to answer her question. she just grins.  
"maybe, but i'm not the one who likes it stuffed up my ass, which makes _me_ the sensible one." she snorts, obviously amused, and turns her attention to asher. "throw the lube my way, love. you ready?"  
"yeah," he says, voice ragged, and doesn't bother to extract his fingers from himself. he just pushes the bottle her way, and she rolls her eyes as she leans forward to grab it.  
"lazy," she tuts as she uncaps it and squeezes a large blob into her hand. it doesn't smell of anything, and she applies it to her toy quickly and methodically, like she's done this a thousand times before and knows the quickest way for a smooth application. it's not too far off the truth.  
  
mag gets to her knees and stretches - something in her back clicks, and she gets this look of absolute bliss on her face - before she leans over and runs her fingers through asher's hair. she has to yank gently to get him to pull his fingers out of himself, and only then does he follow her tugging upwards. he's still flushed, and there's sweat beading at his temples, and he leans in to kiss her again. mag avoids it by grabbing his dick and stroking once, firmly. he throws his head back, mouth falling open, and grunts when she does it again.  
"turn around," she whispers, and he hurries to obey. they're facing claude, although with his eyes shut there's a good chance asher doesn't notice as he bends forward and grabs at the bedspread in anticipation.  
she doesn't enter him right away; she drizzles more lube right into his ass and strokes it in and around, sinking two and then three and then _four_ fingers in to make sure he's as relaxed as he can be. he bites the covers to keep from making noise, and then gives up trying to hide his arousal when she leans forward, presses a kiss to his back, reaches around his hip to jerk him off firmly while she curls her fingers inside him.  
  
he's panting in less than thirty seconds. " _god, god, mag, please, i can't-_ " and she lets go before he can embarrass himself all over her duvet. he whines pitiously, high and needy, and tries to fidget backwards. he's stopped by her hand on his ass, and she adds just a little more lube to the dildo with her other hand.  
"ass up a bit higher, love- that should be fine. backwards now, slowly." she guides him, holds the toy in place as he gets used to the feeling of the head at his entrance, and then removes her hands completely as he backs onto it. she can't help but shoot claude an utterly smug look. she knows they've seen similar things before, but that was before, that was when asher was all kinds of fucked up and desperate for something other than orgasms, and unattractively skinny besides. asher doesn't stop until he hisses, and there's only a half inch left before the entire thing has been swallowed by his ass. mag spreads him further and rubs a little more lube in, just in case, and the noise he makes is almost lost into the duvet. almost.  
it's her that moves; she presses forward to close the tiny gap between them, and that wrangles a raggedy gasp from asher's throat. then again, firmer, forcing him to lean forward, and she kisses his shoulder. that's enough prompting for him to slide forward in one fluid motion and groan as he does so. he backs into it again, and there's no trouble taking it all this time. mag runs her fingertips up his back, and his back curves away from the touch. it seems to inflame him further - he groans, long and deep, and doesn't stop making noise as he continues impaling himself on the fake cock. mag doesn't need to move, so she doesn't. asher is setting his own pace, enjoying himself entirely, fists balled so tight that the tendons in his arms are tense and strained. it's beautiful to watch.  
  
it's only when the noises he makes become a little too feverish that mag smiles and shuffles back when he tries to sink back onto it.  
"mag-"  
"shhh, love," she says, and pats his ass gently. "you really want this to be over so quickly?"  
" _mag_ -"  
"shhhh," she says again, and runs her fingertips up his back again. she doesn't stop at his shoulders, keeps going, finds purchase in his hair and pulls. this time it isn't gentle. he hisses, struggles to push himself upwards to follow the pain backwards, and finds the cock in his ass sits at a much more pleasant angle like this. she's repositioned him so his weight is leaning against her, back curved elegantly, cock standing at attention and weeping. he sighs, and relaxes, hair free of mag's grip now. he doesn't try to reposition himself on her, or even try to start bouncing to release.  
"so," mag says in a conversational tone. she's hidden behind asher's chest, and making no effort to show her face. "you were invited here for a reason, asshole. you've now seen me naked - congrats, by the way - and my boyfriend is currently sitting on my dick and imagining it to be yours. isn't that right, love?" she asks, and runs one of her hands up asher's pale thigh. he whimpers in answer. "that's what i thought. _you_ , however, have done nothing but sit and stare, which is not exactly the definition of _joining in_."  
"that's," claude begins, but mag cuts them off.  
"shut up, i'm not finished. i want to know if you're going to do anything at all, or if you just came here to watch and laugh."  
"i'm not _laughing_ ," claude says. "i don't know if you were paying attention earlier, but i told you to do whatever you were comfortable with, whatever you normally did."  
"i know that," mag walks her fingers up asher's thigh and rests them at the base of his cock. it twitches. "but you've done enough watching. i want you to  _do_ something."  
  
silence answers her demand, and she thinks that maybe she's gone a little too far.  
"mag, it's fine," asher says weakly. "i don't care, i don't- _fuck_."  
"i'm not talking to you right now, love," she says, gripping his cock firmly.  
"it's fine," claude says. mag opens her mouth to say something, and the weight on the bed shifts. "move your hand."  
it's surprise more than anything that has her release asher and rest her hands on his thighs instead. sat behind him, she can't tell what's going on, but it sounds suspiciously like they're inching up the bed to join them. then asher's legs are spreading a little wider, and he's taking in a deep breath and then letting it out in one wild rush. there might be words hidden in that breath, she's not sure, and on his next intake asher's moaning again. there are wet little sounds reaching mag's ears, and she has to know what's going on. she raises asher's arm, and limp, he lets her. peeking around, she sees her boyfriend's cock disappearing into claude's mouth, their lips brushing against his naval.  
" _oh_ ," mag says quietly, and claude directs their gaze up to glare at her. she can't find it in her to return the heat. she can only stare as they lift their head up and replace their mouth with their hands.  
"asher, if you come on my face, i will never speak to you again," claude says, flicking their wrist as they stroke him thoroughly.  
" _ah, ahhh_ ," asher replies, all coherence and intelligence as usual. "fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , claude. _fuck._ "  
"i know," claude's saying, and then opens their mouth to take him all in at once again. it's a fluid movement; they don't stop to take breath or adjust for his thickness or length, just bob down and keep going until there's nothing left to take. mag can see the muscles in their throat working once, twice, and then asher jerks up against them and starts panting.  
"really," mag asks, completely wide-eyed. "that's all you needed? jesus, asher, that's- that's _hot_."  
  
he doesn't respond, too busy concentrating on the feeling of tight hot wetness around his cock, eyes squeezed shut so tightly that mag knows the blood must be pounding furiously in his head. he'll have a headache later. he rides it out and then goes suddenly, gloriously limp against her. she kisses his waist.  
"love?"  
" _fuck_ ," he says again, and summons just enough energy to push off the cock inside him. he almost falls off it, so happily spent that there's no need to try and make his arms work. mag and claude both grab an arm and keep him from landing uncomfortably. he giggles as they turn him over and lay him on his side.  
  
"that was," mag starts.  
"don't say a thing," claude cuts her off. "not a damn word. there you go, wish fulfilled, are you happy?"  
she raises her eyebrows, looks almost offended as she struggles with the straps holding her cock up. "i don't know what you think i was going to say, but it sure as shit wasn't going to be aggressive," she says mildly, finding the catch and working her way out of the harness again. it falls to the floor with a thud and she kicks it aside. "i was going to suggest i helped you out, since you haven't even touched yourself, but if you're going to be a pissy bitch about the whole thing-"  
"you weren't."  
"and how in god's name do you know _that_?" she's starting to get angry again, a constant side-effect of being around claude, and it's asher that keeps the peace, as usual. he doesn't roll over, just groans tiredly from between them on the bed.  
"enough," he says. "stop fighting. just- god, cuddles, please, i love you both."  
  
mag could laugh at the way that those simple words affect claude so suddenly; they tense up like they've been zapped, but she understands a little too much for her liking to be able to make fun of them.  
"oh, chill out," she settles for, and stretches. her boobs jiggle as she does so. "he says that after sex a lot. you don't want to know the amount of times he's proposed while he's still been inside me."  
"hey," asher mumbles, but mag just rolls her eyes.  
"the count's at twelve, my love. that's embarrassing. you should be embarrassed." she smiles, though. "i'll forgive you tonight, mr all-fucked-out. _now_ ," she says, turning back to the issue at hand. "it wouldn't be fair for you to walk away with a hard-on, especially not after what you did to _him_. i," and here she falters, looks unsure, can't hold her firm gaze. "i'm not sure what you'd like, though. i- i mean, i'm a girl, you might not like - shit, i'm bad at this."  
  
it's the most awful proposal she's ever put forth, and that includes the lame pick-ups she tried using in college. she shrugs, helpless, and resists the urge to cover herself. there's no point at this point, after all. claude still isn't saying anything, and her mind races as she tries to think of a solution.  
it comes in the form of her sliding a decisive hand into the waistband of their trousers and tugging them forwards.  
"what," claude says, but she's already sunk gracefully to her knees and is unbuttoning them.  
"nice pants," she mutters - they are, they have three buttons, which means they're _fancy_ , and from the way the fabric feels like it could flow through her fingers, it's likely silk or satin or something equally pricey - and then they're falling to the floor and she's got her fingers hooked in their equally black underpants. they're hard under the fabric, but _hard_ doesn't mean _willing_. she thinks of their hands around her neck, and swallows.  
"point of no return," she says, and looks them in the eye.  
  
boneless on the bed still, asher manages to roll himself over enough that he can watch them, intrigued. this is probably the longest these two have been civil to one another, and now they're frozen, staring at each other like nothing else exists outside of whatever bubble they're standing in.  
"sure," claude says, and the bubble bursts. mag looks surprised, like she hadn't been expecting that answer, and seems like she might not go through it before she sucks in a deep breath and pulls their boxers swiftly down.  
"oh," she says, faced with another person's cock in such close proximity to her face. "don't take that the wrong way," she adds quickly, "just... _oh_."  
  
it's a pretty dick, long and slender like its owner. she looks at it - really looks at it - and starts giggling.  
"what," claude says, irritated.  
"i think you're bigger than asher," she laughs, and pokes at it. it bobs back and forth obligingly. she giggles again. "yeah, i think you are, i- can you sit down? it'll be easier."  
she keeps staring as claude takes a seat, and when mag suggests they take off their shirt, just glares and crosses their arms. she shrugs. "suit yourself." she shuffles closer, sits between their legs, and stares a little longer. "you know," she begins, and traces one fingertip up its underside gently, "i've never really been a fan of dick- what?" she frowns as claude snorts. "it's true. i like girls. tits, ass, vag- _mmm_ , that's the good stuff. asher was the first - the _only_ guy i've slept with."  
"dick sucking competition of last year," asher reminds her sleepily, and she shrugs.  
"with the exception of the competition. shush, you, you're all fucked out. really," she says, returning her attention to the task at hand. "so i don't have a lot to compare to, but this is- _gorgeous_." she breathes the last word, shuffles even closer so her breath ghosts over their cock, and is pleased to note the subtle shudder that produces. "mmm. yeah, just the thing-" and she leans forward, places her lips around the head and takes in just enough that it _pops_ out of her mouth when she moves back again. "doesn't taste like shit, either. you surprise me," she says, the highest compliment she's ever paid claude, and leans back in to suck a kiss at the base, and then another a little higher up, all the way to the top. she finishes with a teasing lick, which makes it bob back and forth again, and claude brushes their hair behind their ears for something to do with their hands.  
  
it continues like that, gentle and testing, mag trying not to enjoy something new and different, claude keeping their eyes carefully trained on a rat skull grinning at him, asher watching every movement carefully. she moves her weight, makes to sit up - and claude places their hand on the back of her head.  
"what-"  
"don't stop now," they say, and clear their throat. mag stares, bug-eyed again, and when she doesn't show any indication of sliding back down their length, claude directs an irritated glance down at her. "don't even think about making this into something, just, jesus, you have no sense of timing."  
mag lets herself be guided back down onto it, sucks in a deep breath through her nose and lets them push her down further than she's taken it in before. she can feel the head at the back of her throat, and panic wells up inside her. she slaps the hand away and frees herself, breathing hard. she shuts her eyes, coughs, coughs again, grits her teeth and then reaches for claude's wrist again. "sorry," she mutters, pushes their hand into pushing her head forward, and then she's at it again, breathing as deeply as she can through her nose, too aware of her heartbeat thundering again in her groin and the way claude tastes so differently to asher.  
  
tired though he is, asher watches with rapt fascination as mag sucks claude off, as willing as she has ever been with him. it must be hard, because she shuts her eyes, but from the way she laps at them when she's not got the entire thing down her throat and the way she smacks her lips against the head, she must be enjoying herself. claude, for their part, has their eyes shut and the hand not in mag's hair is tight in the bedcovers. it's like something out of one of his dreams, his girlfriend and his crush together, not fighting, not arguing, not doing anything but silently helping one another out. silently is the wrong word to use - mag's mouth is making these incredibly wet sounds around claude, and once or twice he could have sworn that she even whimpered quietly. claude doesn't make a sound, doesn't do a thing but breath and enjoy, and watching them concentrate their way to orgasm is one of the most beautiful things asher has ever been allowed to watch.  
"right, okay, uh," claude says suddenly, and grips mag's hair a little tighter. she _slurps_ , and then she groans, and claude bends over her as they hold her head still. they stay like that for a moment, two moments, and then mag is released. she lifts her head with a curiously neutral expression, and wipes her mouth with the back of her wrist. she swallows, and asher has to close his eyes at that, his girlfriend swallowing  _claude's_ come, and then the moment is over. she's bending to pick the strapon off the floor and disappears with it to the bathroom to wash it off, and presumably to wash herself as well. neither asher nor claude try to talk to each other.  
  
mag scrubs her toy down meticulously and brushes her teeth like she always does after sex, then kneels on the bathroom floor and slides her fingers into herself again, curling them _just so_ and rubbing her thumb _there_ quickly, efficiently, and bites her cheeks hard as she comes again. she takes a moment to breathe some sense back into herself before she stands, wobbly-kneed, and makes her way back to her room. the strapon is hung up behind the door, on the hook reserved primarily for her dressing gown, and she flops on the bed next to asher, running a finger down his cheek. his eyes are closed, but he's still awake. he smiles. claude is still sitting at the bottom of the bed, but they've dressed themselves again.  
"you can stay, if you want," mag says, and yawns. "you've crashed on the couch before, i don't care if you want to do that again."  
"or the bed," asher says. the words don't come out right, like he's already fallen asleep.  
"... or the bed," mag agrees after a moment. "stay, go, i don't care. thanks, i guess."  
"mmm," asher adds, the picture of satisfaction.

* * *

 

when sar and efrain return, it's late, but not late enough that mag and asher should be asleep, but all the lights in the flat are off. there's no light coming from under the crack of mag's door either, which means they're either out or asleep. their shoes are in the hallway, which means they haven't gone out, and there's a third pair sitting there innocently as well.

"must have a guest over for movies, maybe?" sar suggests, but efrain shrugs. it doesn't matter to him whether they have a guest over or not, so long as they finally learn to _clean up after themselves_ , something mag has gotten worse and worse at doing over the last few months.

they enter their own room and shut the door, and don't hear claude gathering their things and tiptoeing out once everyone has fallen asleep.


End file.
